[He's not talking. It's - well, it's almost unsettling, but it also makes it easier to keep going. Everything about this is already uncomfortable. Her arms are crossed, she's curled in on herself, her ears are back - all of her body language is screaming defensive discomfort, and even then, her voice is completely empty.]

I was already - violent. I knew I could do it, and I knew it'd pay well. I thought - either I'd get stronger, and be able to come back and take care of her, or - I'd die without her being the one to find me.

[Because no one else would have looked for her. And she could never do that to Junko.]

I didn't know - she left too. I wasn't - we weren't in contact. I was always moving around, I didn't - I didn't know.
But the only way she could survive on the streets - she wasn't - like me, she couldn't - defend herself, or--
... She had to sell herself. And eventually - she found - a manager. She became a model.
When I came back - she was famous.

And we were invited to Hope's Peak.
Her as the Ultimate Fashionista, me as the Ultimate Soldier. Even though - she was so smart. They didn't care. Just about her career.

[The one she'd been forced into, the one she'd had to claw her way up from the gutter to, the one that reduced her to nothing but a body to drool over, like always. Like always. A deep, dark bitterness has edged into her tone; it's practically dripping from her voice, exactly like the viscous toxin she's been gifted.]

Did Komaeda tell you - what happened?
What that school did?